Shelter from the Storm
by BombasticLover
Summary: Brynn is enjoying a quiet weekend alone at the family cottage when a powerful storm brings an equally powerful visitor to her door: Loki. Stuck on earth with no powers, Loki relies on Brynn to help him find a way back. Loki/OC.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

There's something about watching thunderstorms that has fascinated me for a long time. It might be the bright flashes of lightning, the thunder shaking the trees, or the power of nature behind it. On the back deck of the family cabin, I'm wrapped in a warm throw blanket and watching the electricity dance through the sky. After each rumble of thunder, I take a sip of my warm earl grey tea. This is how I like to enjoy my weekends alone in the north, away from the busy city life.

One bright blue bolt surprises me. They're rare, but the most beautiful part of even the most violent storm.

A few minutes pass before something in the trees catches my attention. I have to squint through the rain, through the lenses of my glasses, to notice a figure coming through the trees. I am slightly alarmed when I see that it is a man, stepping disoriented out of the forest. As he gets closer to the deck, I'm frozen with fear and confusion. Who is this stranger? His long black hair is slicked back behind his head, revealing the strange garments on his body. He has a bizarre look in his green eyes; he's dazed and lost, looking for any sign of help.

Before I can make any move, the stranger collapses onto the damp ground below the deck. I rush over to the railing to get a better look, and notice the gash near his hairline.

My first instinct is to help him, even though I am doubtful of how much I can do. Though I should be calling someone for help, it's rare for the landline to work during a storm this strong. I rush off the deck and to the stranger's unconscious body. Not sure of what to do, I find myself reaching for his neck, to check for any sign of a pulse. His skin is surprisingly cool to the touch, and slick from the rain. Not a moment passes before his hand springs up and grabs my naked wrist. I'm frozen again as he slowly cocks his head to look up at me.

"It's been a long time since I let a mortal touch me," he mutters.

I awkwardly pull my wrist from his strong grip and instinctively take a few steps back. "Sorry..." I mumble as he struggles to get to his feet. I have the urge to help him stand, but remain stuck in place as thunder booms overhead. My mind races with thoughts of where he came from, why he's out in the middle of nowhere, and what he wants with me.

The stranger turns his head to meet my fearful gaze. Though the storm is loud, I can hear his question over the commotion. "Could you offer me a place to sit down? Somewhere warm and dry preferably," he adds.

Though I want to react, I still find myself motionless with fear, my own eyes locked into some kind of staring contest with his as we wait in silence for the next move.

Something changes in his stoic expression; perhaps it is sincerity. Kindness, even. "I'm not going to hurt you. I don't mean any harm."

Something still keeps my feet planted in place, though he doesn't seem to let it faze him. He turns to look at the house and takes one shaky step towards the stairs. And another. I remain where I am. When he arrives at the bottom of the stairs, he mounts the first step, a painful groan escaping his mouth as he bends his knee. Suck it up, I tell myself. I have to help him.

I don't realize I'm moving until it happens, and before I know it, I'm holding his slender arm in my hands to steady his balance. He nods a thank you and we work our way up the slope to the deck, one step at a time.

Once we make it to the top, I realize that even though the deck is warm and dry, the interior of the cabin offers some light to shed on this situation. I still don't know who this stranger is, or what his story will tell. I open the door so we may enter the cabin, and help him inside, easing him onto the couch. He takes a heavy sigh of relief.

"Thank you." Without the commotion of the storm, I can hear the accent in his words. It must have been the rumble of thunder, or simply my heart pounding in my eardrums, but I hadn't noticed it before. It's a smooth tone of voice that's distinctly English. I wonder if that's where he came from.

I find myself smiling, and finally find the courage to speak to him. "My phones are out because of the storm, but can I get you something? To drink maybe?"

"Yes, something to drink would be nice," he replies, rubbing the skin of his forehead near his wound. In the light of the cabin I can see it better, though it looked worse outside in the throes of the storm.

I amble to the fridge to take a look at what I have. It's been a while since I've ventured up the road for rations and supplies; I'm low on almost everything. "I don't have bottled water," I say from the small kitchen area, "just from the tap. The only other thing I have is white wine," I add, almost sarcastically.

"Wine will be just fine," he says.

His request takes me by surprise; maybe he's delusional from hitting his head. The fridge still open, I ask, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'd like a glass if you're offering."

I suppose I'd want a glass of wine too if I'd appeared from nowhere in the middle of the forest. I reach for the glasses on the top shelf of the cupboard and pour one for him, as well as one for myself. When I return to the living area to hand to him, our fingers brush for a very brief moment. I find myself pulling away quickly, merely out of instinct. My eyes fall on the gash near his hairline.

"Would you like anything for that?" I ask, and then take a sip of my own wine. I motion to my own forehead so he understands the context.

I realize he's not aware of his own injury as he reaches up for it with his free hand, and quizzically feels the wound, tacky with blood. He examines the viscous substance on the tips of his fingers, and offers me a puzzled glance. "Would I be able to clean myself up somewhere?"

I nod and point to the bathroom door. "Right through there." He sets his glass down on a nearby table and begins to straighten in his seat, but groans as the pain shoots through the body. "Let me do it. You're hurt."

It's not until I'm in the bathroom, gathering some antiseptic and a few other items that I ask myself if I know what I'm doing. Why am I playing hostess to a stranger who came out of the forest, disoriented and bleeding? I don't even know where he came from, and something about him seems so strange. It's also nearly eleven o'clock and the phones are out. What am I going to do with him in the cabin? He seems to be well enough to avoid a hospital visit, but there is so much more about him I don't know.

I look at myself in the mirror, noticing I look flushed with color. My palms are a bit sweaty, and my hands shake just enough to notice.

I shake out my worries and return to the living area. He's still there on the couch drinking white wine, so this isn't some strange dream after all. I'm cautious to approach him, but find that the atmosphere between us is slightly more relaxed, and not as tense as our first meeting.

He nods to allow me to begin, but before I can, he coldly looks me in the eye. "Be careful," he mutters, his mouth a hard line across his face.

I move slowly, afraid that I'll startle him if I don't follow a strict routine. At first I use a damp washcloth to dab up the excess blood. Every so often he winces when I touch the wrong spot with the wet fabric, but composes himself immediately after.

"Where did you come from?" I ask, lightly dabbing antiseptic onto the wound.

His disposition remains hostile. With his eyes on the floor, he quietly says, "It is nothing you should concern yourself with."

I leave it at that; clearly he isn't in the mood to talk to me in-depth and reveal some much-needed information. I finish cleaning the wound, finding that it appears to mar his pale skin less than before with the blood gone.

"All done," I offer, taking a seat on a nearby chair with my glass of wine. "It looked worse than it really was."

"Thank you kindly," he replies.

For what seems like a long time, we sit in complete silence, taking turns as we lift our glasses up to drink. I fear that I'm drinking too fast, but he surprises me by finishing first.

The words escape my mouth before my mind can process them. "Would you like some more?"

He's as surprised as I am by my question, though what shocks me the most is the amused smile that breaks his face for just a moment. "Yes, I would."

Our fingertips brush again when I retrieve his glass, sending an unwelcome chill down my spine. It's not until I'm refilling his empty glass that a wicked plan crossed my mind. Could I get him inebriated on white wine to find out what he's doing out here? There are risks, of course, but I have a churning feeling in my stomach that it will be worth the reward.

He thanks me again for the second glass, and we return to our sitting-in-silence routine. I wait until he's nearly to the bottom of his before I try to prod for information again.

"It would be helpful to know what you were doing out there."

His movements seem different to me now. He appears to be more relaxed, leaning back further onto the couch and tapping his fingers on the wine glass. "I'm not from here."

"Then where are you from, and why are you here?" I catch myself asking before I can think again, and immediately notice that my quick questions have ripped him from his relaxation.

His eyes burn through mine, and he sets down his glass without breaking his gaze. "I thought I said before that it not something to concern yourself with."

"I'm sorry, but…but…" I sputter, but the wine seems to have done its work on me more than him.

I'm startled when he stands up from the couch. He struggles through the pain, I can tell by the frustrated look on his face, but one step at time, he makes his way over to me. Before I know it, he's standing directly in front of my chair, glaring down into my eyes. He is a dark storm cloud inside, looming over me before the first strike.

He freezes me solid again, the second time since his arrival. When he realizes I'm too stiff to react, he delicately places one finger under my chin to tilt my head further up. His cold skin chills me once more.

My mind brings me back to the first words he spoke to me, the frigid words echoing as he speaks to me.

"You listen to me, mortal girl," he breathes. There's the word. Mortal. It hadn't crossed my mind before, but now it takes me aback. "Some things in this world are not meant to be trifled with, and me being here is one of those things."

I don't control the connection between my thoughts and my words any more. He seems to have that effect. "Then what do you want with me?"

His words still nothing but a low exhale of breath, he tells me, "Because I need you for something."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I'm not sure what to think of this stranger, more so than before. He's got one finger under my chin, forcing me to meet his dark gaze, and when he finally reveals some information, it involves me.

"I need you for something."

I swallow the lump in my throat before I can speak, only a whisper. "What do you need me for? You don't even know me."

A smirk parts his lips, and he chuckles at me. It's not quite a laugh, but he finds me humorous. It doesn't change how much he frightens me. "Do you not recognize me?"

I do look at him for a moment, racking my memory to see if I can place him anywhere, but there is no place he fits into. He is a stranger, and nothing more. "No," I mutter. "Should I?"

Any sign of amusement drains from his face at my words, and he's back to glaring at me again. "I can't tell if you're as moronic as all other mortals or merely don't know about the destruction I caused to one of your cities." He pauses to think for a moment, and then tells me, "New York," though he still questions if that's the right place.

My mind traces back to a month ago, though it feels like longer. I do know something happened in New York City, but the government and army seemed to be doing their best to cover something up. Some people still jabber on about an alien invasion, though I'd always dismissed it as a government experiment gone wrong. Now I wonder what the real truth is, though I still cannot connect the stranger to those events.

"I do know about what happened," I start, "but I still don't know who you are."

His face hardens, and I am fearful of what is about to happen. His finger drops from underneath my chin, and he turns around to pace through the living area. He seems to be caught somewhere between disbelief and annoyance, but I still don't dare to move from my chair. "You mortals are so ignorant," he mutters.

"Why do you keep saying that?" I ask, noticing the irritation in my own voice. I have every right to be getting frustrated as the fear begins to melt away. He's in my house; I deserve to know what's going on. I rise from my chair. "Who are you?"

In a moment's notice he's back in front of me, though this time we're merely inches apart. He's got one cold hand gripped tightly onto my arm, keeping me from running. Though it's taken me by surprise, I am intent on holding my ground.

"You listen to me," he growls through his teeth.

The wine is probably speaking for me, but I let it. "No, you listen to me!" I counter.

He tightens his grip and a sheepish squeak escapes my lips; I decide that the wine is done talking now. His jaw clenched tightly, he says to me, "I am Loki of Asgard. I seem to be stuck on this awful planet with no powers and no way of returning to my rightful place in the Nine Worlds."

"Asgard?" I find myself asking. "Nine Worlds? Where are those? Who are you?"

"So many questions," he observes, finally sounding amused again, thought it doesn't help in lessening my fear. "I am not from this world, but from a different realm entirely. I am not like you. I am not mortal. I am a god."

I'm stammering as I try to piece this all together, trying to convince myself that this is pure insanity but also wondering if there's a chance it could be true. "I...I don't understand."

"Around one year ago my damned brother was in the same predicament, and he found his way back thanks to some human girl. Surely, the same will work for me," he adds with a wicked gleam in his eyes. My lower lip begins to tremble. "Yes, it definitely will. It was almost perfect to have you stumble upon me back in the forest."

I decide that this is insane. He's insane, and I'm insane, though it's mostly just him. It's impossible to be from anywhere but Earth, but I see something strange in his green eyes. No matter what I believe, he's not going to let me go.

Lips still trembling, I ask, "What are you going to do with me?"

"I'm sure it won't be long until it works," he muses. "Thor didn't seem to be gone long. You'll have to stay with me until…" he trails off.

"Until what?" I gulp.

"Until you grow to care for me."

My first reaction is to scowl at his request. He's insane. He's actually insane to think that he can make me do anything, let alone care for him. He's still got my arm strongly held in his hand, but I hold my ground. "I'm not going to do anything for you," I reply sternly, and attempt to pull myself from his grip.

He only holds onto me tighter, and grins down at me. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm leaving."

He chuckles again, the sound chilling every fiber of my body. "You don't need to run. Even though I've lost my powers, I am still a god. I am stronger, faster, and smarter than you. You would never be able to get away from me." The lump in my throat is back, but I am too afraid to swallow. "Since we're going to be spending some time together now, I see it's only fitting that I know your name."

I don't want to tell him, but at the same time, I know that I won't be going anywhere until I do. I see no harm in him knowing. "Brynn."

"Brynn," he repeats, slowly dragging out the one syllable into many. "I like that."

My stomach is churning with disdain, and I'm worried that my legs could give out at any minute. Real or not, there is no good outcome to staying with this stranger...Loki...for much longer. My subconscious mind is yearning for a drink to clear my thoughts momentarily. I force myself to look into his eyes and ask, "Can I get another glass of wine?"

He thinks for a long, drawn-out moment, but then begins to ease his grip on my arm until he isn't holding on any longer. "Of course, Brynn."

I cautiously step away from him, not daring to turn my back on him until I feel like I'm far enough away. He remains standing among the couch and chair in the living area, still present in the corner of my eye as I open the fridge for the wine. While he watches me intently, my peripheral vision leads my gaze to my left, and to the back door, still unlocked from when we came in.

The wine slowly pours into my glass as endless possibilities cross my mind. Could I make it to the door if I ran fast enough? I'd still have to open it, but that won't take long. By the time he knows what is going on, I could be on the deck and running into the forest. But where would I go from there? My nearest neighbors are far down the street, and I'm not even sure if they're home this weekend. Perhaps the street would still be my best option. Cars don't travel down here often, but all I need to see is one.

I put the bottle of wine onto the counter, and before I can change my mind, I make a mad dash for the door.

"No!" he shouts, nearly growling again.

I yank at the knob until the door swings open, and with bare feet, run onto the deck and nearly fly down the stairs. I don't notice that it's pouring until I'm within the confines of the forest. The ground is slippery underneath me, the stray branches pull and tug at my clothes, but I will not stop until I know I'm safe.

My glasses stop being of any use as the lenses cloud with rain and mud kicked up from the ground. I rip the frames from my face and toss them to the ground.

I'm relieved when I stumble upon the road, usually a dusty path through the trees, but now a slick mudslide. I come to a stop in the center, looking up and down for any sign of headlights, any sign of life at all.

The sound of a heavy boot slapping against the muddy road causes me to flinch. Lightning parts the sky above me and the thunder soon follows. Maybe I'm just hearing things. I hear it again over the rain, the sound of strong steps through the sludge. There's nowhere else to run now, and there never will be.

I force myself to turn around. There he is, only a few feet away, standing motionless in the pouring rain as he glowers down at me.

"Don't you remember?" he says to me, taking slow steps through the mud until he's directly in front of me. "I told you not to run."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

If you asked me earlier today if I thought I'd be standing on the road in the pouring rain, inches away from someone who claims to be a god, I'd call you crazy. Absolutely insane. Now it all doesn't seem so far-fetched anymore.

We stand in silence for a long time, both trying to out-stare the other. He may be trying to break me, but I am still stronger than him.

"We should go back to your home," he finally suggests. "Mortals don't last long in the rain."

For once he's right. I'm already suppressing the need to shiver. He probably thinks he can lead me back, but I surprise him by stepping to the side and leading the way down the muddy road. I don't look to see if he's following; I know he is.

I'm relieved to be back in the warm cottage, but my clothes and hair are soaking wet, my feet dirty from running through the forest barefooted. I remember throwing my glasses away too; thank goodness I packed my contacts. For a moment it's not like I have an uninvited guest, but it becomes a reality once again when he follows me inside. He slicks his wet hair back with his pale hands.

"I think I'm going to change," I spit out.

"Not a bad idea," he muses, and cautiously takes a seat on the couch. He's as wet as I am, but I have many others things to worry about besides damp furniture.

I do my best to towel-dry my hair in the bathroom as he waits outside the door, and am relieved to finally be alone in my room to be changed. This is why I come out to the cottage every so often; to get away from all of the people in such close proximity in the city. I still remember that's not the case now, but panicking and trying to run won't get me anywhere. I've learned that much.

I step out of my wet clothes and slip into a loose grey t-shirt and a pair of flannel pajama shorts, the usual night time uniform. I leave my jeans and shirt on the back of my sitting chair to dry off and return to the living room. He's still there, sitting on my couch.

"I think I'm going to go to bed," I sigh. "It's been a long night."

He immediately rises to his feet, looking far too enthusiastic to go to sleep. "Excellent. Though I usually didn't see much need for sleep in Asgard, it seems that being without powers has made me quite tired. I will join you then."

"Excuse me?"

"While I do trust that you won't run away again," he starts, "I'd prefer to be in the same room as you, Brynn."

I know it's an argument I can't win. I could put him in the guest room, but he'd probably find his way into mine. "Do you mind sleeping on the floor? I have a sleeping bag, and I'd be more comfortable if you were there."

"Very well," he nods. "Would you happen to have some dry clothes for me to change into?"

Fortunate for him, a few of my dad's clothes are still lying around the cottage. I'm sure there is a pair of pajama pants in there. "I think so. You can change while I set up your sleeping bag."

I'm unrolling the musty sleeping bag at the end of my bed while he changes in the bathroom. I can't say I know for sure why I'm doing this for someone who won't seem to leave, but I blame the lack of sleep mixed with too much wine. I just want the day to be over.

He enters my bedroom as I'm fluffing my pillows, and I admit to being a bit shocked that he is not wearing a shirt, only a loose-fitting pair of pajama bottoms. As much as I don't want to, my eyes can't help but fall onto his built frame, supported by a strong chest and arms.

His voice snaps me out of my trance, thank goodness. "So this is a sleeping bag?"

"Yes, I hope it's alright," I offer, rushing into bed. The sooner I fall asleep, the better. My next words come out a bit awkwardly as I reach for my lamp. "Well...goodnight."

I turn off the lights before he's settled on the floor, but I'm still convinced that I can wake up from this strange dream. But no matter how tight I close my eyes, and how many times I toss and turn, time continues to pass as I lay in bed awake, unable to drift off.

"Are you still awake?"

I nearly jump out of bed at the sound of his voice; I'd forgotten he was lying at the end on the floor.

"Yes," I mumble into my pillow.

A long silence passes until he speaks again. "Perhaps a story will help both of us get to sleep."

Bedtime stories? I suspect that if I say no, he'll tell me anyways. "It might work."

He clears his throat before he begins. "I come from a place far from here, in a different realm entirely. Asgard, they call it."

"You've told me that already," I point out.

He seems unfazed, and continues. "Though I'm on the outs with everyone there now, I was a prince there. Even though I was a member of the royal family, I always felt that I didn't belong. My older brother, Thor, seemed to get the majority of the attention. It wasn't until much more recently that I discovered I'd been adopted. My real parents hailed from Jotenheim, and they were frost giants."

The way he speaks of his life, apparently in a different realm, I notice something in his voice. Sadness. Perhaps he's not as inhuman as I'd thought before. Could I be misunderstanding him, just as his family had?

"Do you have a story?" he asks me.

"No," I mutter. Maybe I do, but I can't say I'm in the mood to tell him. "But that didn't make me tired."

"Me neither."

My words once again move faster than I could think. "Maybe it's because you're on the floor. You can come into bed, if you want."

He doesn't say anything. He rustles the sleeping bag about, and I peek over my shoulder to see him getting to his feet, just able to make out the movement of his upper body in the near-darkness. Still silent, he walks over to my bed and pulls back the top blanket before climbing in, keeping a respectful distance between us.

And we don't say anything else. Once he's next to me in the bed, I suddenly find that I am able to let my eyes flutter closed and fall asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

In a land of dreams I am far removed from my family cottage, back to living a seemingly normal life. I am not the hostess to a stranger from another realm, and I am not confused by every small move he makes. Part of me hopes that this is the world I will wake up to, but another part curiously longs to see what fate brings me next.

I wake up to notice that the rain has subsided, and the dim yellow glow of the sun is attempting to peek around the curtains in my bedroom. Despite being veiled, it wraps me a warm feeling that releases a contented sigh. It's not until then I notice that something else is wrapped around me.

A pair of long, muscular arms are holding me in a loose, but close embrace. Through my back I can feel his heart gently beating against the fabric of my t-shirt. One hand rests on my bare forearm, his slender fingers lightly grasped onto me.

My first reaction is to yank myself from his grasp. As soon as I attempt to put some distance between us, I feel his body jerk awake. In a swift series of movements, I roll onto my back as he moves on top of me, and with my lower body straddled beneath him, he's got one hand on my throat, the other still lightly holding onto my arm.

Panting heavily, he releases his hand from my throat, and breathes down at me, "It's not very often that I sleep next to someone. Sorry."

My throat bare again, I pull my legs out from under him until I'm sitting up against the back wall of the bedroom, though we're still closer to each other than I would like. I awkwardly scramble off of the bed and find myself rushing away from him, stumbling into the bathroom in my half-asleep state. The door slams shut behind me.

A knock on the other side startles me. "I didn't mean to startle you," he apologizes again.

I feel the doorknob begin to jiggle behind my hand, and quickly reach to lock it before he can come in. The bathroom is the only space I have right now, though it feels as if the walls will soon close in on me.

"Let me in," he says calmly.

I don't move. All I do is breathe, and in this situation, that's already hard enough.

A sharp slam on the wooden frame causes me to jump. He does it again, but I still don't expect it. "Open the door or I will open it for you," he snarls.

He's mad again, and I can't say I'm a big fan of him in that state. I turn around to unlock the door, and slowly turn the knob in my clammy hand until it clicks open. When I look up through the small crack in the doorway, he's standing right there, glaring down at me.

"You can't run from me," he mutters, almost too low for me to hear. "Do you understand?" I nod to his question; I'm just too scared to speak in front of him now. "Good. Very good," he says.

I open the door all of the way, I can't help but feel trapped. There's still nowhere to run. "I was going to make some breakfast. Do you want some?"

A faint smile crosses his lips. Faint, but it's there. "Of course."

I step around him to get to the kitchen. He watches inquisitively from the small dining table as I crack eggs into a pan and simultaneously fry up a pound of bacon. His eyes follow every move my hands make, and I can't help but think about all that has happening in the last twelve hours. I play each moment back in my head; when he chased me to the road in the main, when I woke up in his arms.

While I'm busy with two pans sizzling at the same time, he rises from his seat and slowly stalks over to me, until he's stopped right behind me.

"Is there any way I can help?" he timidly asks.

"No," I snap. "I'm almost done."

I reach for the pan of eggs, all done, and place it on a spot on the counter. As I lean back to the oven, I realize that he's closer to me now, and we're both locked into some kind of staring contest with each other. I don't move; he's got me rendered helpless.

I take a wide step back to put some distance between us. "I'm all done breakfast now. Have you thought of what you might want to do today?"

He thinks for a moment, running a free hand through his hair as part of the process. He takes one step towards me, but this time I don't move. Something keeps me in place.

I'm not aware of what is happening until it happens. He continues to move until he is right in front of me, reaching a pale hand up to run his fingers through my hair, pushing it behind my ear. This isn't happening, I tell myself. I don't believe he'll do it.

When he uses the hand in my hair to tilt my head up to his, I take another wide step back. When I'm out of his grasp, I step around the kitchen counter to put a boundary between us.

"What are you doing?" I ask him. He seems to be confused at my response and doesn't answer me. "What are you doing?" I repeat.

"I don't think I need to explain myself to you," he replies, eyes glaring.

"Well, whatever you're doing, stop it!" I order. "I know why you're doing this, and I'm not going to let you do it this way. That's not how it works."

"I don't understand."

"I do. Stop it."

He sighs, exasperated. "Very well. Shall we eat?"

Our breakfast at the kitchen table is dominated by silence for the most part, save for the scraping of utensils on our plates and glasses clinking against our teeth. I remind myself that I've still got some significant time to spend with him, and unpleasant as I might worry it could be, part of me also hopes that we can somehow coexist. Perhaps he can learn to appreciate what it is to be human, as without his supposed powers, he is one now.

"I know what I want to do today," Loki pipes up, his plate clean before him.

"You do?" I ask, my voice quiet. I'm worried as to what his answer might be.

"It's such a nice day outside. Where I'm from, there's never anyone to share it with. Why don't we go for a walk in the forest?" he suggests.

His idea confuses me; I can't say he strikes me as a _walk in the great outdoors_ kind of guy. On the other hand, there's not much else we can do here. "Sounds like a plan," I shrug.

He needs a change of clothes before we head outside, and I begrudgingly offer some more spare clothes lying around from the last time my dad was here. He fits perfectly into the pale blue button-up shirt, though the jeans are a little loose. Regardless, he approves of his outfit with a smile on his face, and leads the way out to the back deck. Hard to believe that less than a day ago I found him out here in the pouring rain.

Outside it's slighter warmer, though a chilly bite still echoes in the wind. We step through the damp grass and weave through the trees, following a makeshift path that's been here for as long as I can remember. I know where it goes; simply snaking around the property. Despite the glistening leaves and sweet bird calls that echo through the forest, the beauty of nature is the last thing on my mind. As we walk side-by-side in silence, I can only think of one thing.

Him.

There's no denying he's an attractive man. Thin but built. The strong jaw. But the exterior of a person is one thing, the interior a whole other story.

"Why don't you tell me something about yourself?" he asks, interrupting the silence of the forest.

"Excuse me?" I say. He has a penchant for catching me off-guard.

"Brynn, I know your name and not much else. Why don't you tell me more about you?"

He never ceases to confuse me with his actions, but I find myself wanting to tell him more. Why? I can't say for sure myself. I swallow the lump in my throat.

"Can't say there's much to me," I start. "I'm the middle child of three, and my family's had this property for my whole life. I like to come here on the weekends when I don't have to work, just to get a bit of a break from the city."

"What do you do for work?" he asks, his voice dripping with sincerity.

"I'm a secretary," I reply, then realizing he might not know what that is. "I answer phones and push papers. Menial work, at best."

He nods in understanding, or at least, I assume he understands. "And what about your family?"

"What about my family?" I respond.

"What are they like?"

"Pretty average. My parents have been retired from a few years, they don't work anymore. My older brother is married with two kids and runs his own business, and my younger sister just got engaged. Guess you could kind of say I'm the only one left to settle down."

After a bit of a pause, Loki pipes up again. "Do you want to know something, Brynn?"

"Sure," I offer.

"I don't think we're as different as you might think."

I find that I've stopped walking, and so has he. We're both standing completely still in the middle of the forest, two trees among many more. The birds are still chirping, and dew still drips from every surface, evidence of last night's rainstorm.

He does it again, what he tried in the kitchen. He reaches a hand up to brush a stray strand of hair behind my air, letting the cool tips of his fingers brush along my ear. He tilts my head up to his, our lips in the same plane, and it isn't long before we are no longer two trees in the forest, but one.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I can't say I know what I'm doing right now. Had this weekend been a normal one, I would be on the back deck of the cottage right now, reading through a book with a cup of earl grey next to me. Instead, a stranger came from another world, looking for a way back home. I have to admit that I was reluctant to help, and I still am, though perhaps he's not as strange and alien as I thought before.

If you asked me Friday on my way out of work if I thought I'd be kissing a stranger in the woods the next day, I would have thought you're crazy. I guess I'm the crazy one now.

As he kisses me, he runs his fingers through my hair, down to the nape of my neck as he pulls me closer to him. I can feel his heart pounding against his chest when it is against mine. My mind spins in circles; we could probably spend the whole day out here like this.

I'm eventually the first to pull away, and find myself caught into a loose embrace in his arms as he looks down to me. He's breathing heavily, his heart still beating uncontrollably. His hands even feel a bit clammy where they make contact with the bare skin of my neck. Do I have him hot and bothered?

I wriggle in my stance to make his embrace even looser. I don't want him hot and bothered. Not right now. "I need to go into town today," I stammer. "I need to buy a few groceries."

He removes his hand from my neck, and sighs as he runs it back through his hair. "I would be happy to join you."

...

The grocery store seems to me more of a zoo than a place to get food today. The residents of the small town up the street know who I am, but they don't know the identity of the stranger who pushes the cart behind me, his eyes drawn in every direction at the shelved merchandise. He's an alien to them.

"I wasn't sure what you meant by groceries," he observes as I look through apples, weighing one against the other in my hands. "Now I think I have a better idea."

He's still a bit alien to me too.

"Can I help somehow?" he asks as we leave the produce section.

"Help?" I repeat.

"Could I get something for you?" he offers.

I look down at the list in my hand, wondering if he knows what any of the items I need are. One sticks out as an obvious one. They'd have to have that in whatever realm he came from. "Bread?" I suggest.

He gives me a wide smile and nods. "Yes, I'm sure I can find that."

He saunters off on his own and I'm left to take the helm of the cart, navigating through the produce and deli. I'm waiting in line for my roast chicken slices when a familiar voice calls my name.

"Brynn? Brynn, is that you?"

I whip my head around, instantly surprised that I'm no longer in the company of strangers. The recognizable voice belongs to Josh, an old friend of mine that I never would have expected to see today. We went to high school together, and his parents also own a cottage somewhere in town. He must be in town for the weekend too, for he's dressed down in a pair of faded jeans and a flannel shirt.

"Josh?" I find myself saying. "What are you doing here?"

Laughing, he catches me in a loose, but friendly embrace. "Not too much. My parents are having a few people over this weekend for some hunting tomorrow, but tonight is the campfire. I had to stop by to get the smores ingredients."

I feign a bit of interest, hoping he won't invite me to come over at the same time. "Sounds like a lot of fun."

"Are you around this weekend too?" he asks me.

"Yeah, it's just me at the cottage. We all need a break from work now and again."

"No kidding," he chuckles. Casually, he reaches up a hand to touch my forearm. He doesn't let it stop the conversation, but it catches me off-guard enough to render me motionless. "You know, if you're not…"

Another familiar voice enters, though this one is all the more well-known to me. "What is this?"

Josh instantly recoils as Loki gets closer, confusedly looking between the two of us. I notice out of the corner of my eye that Loki's holding some bread in his arms; just the variety I would have gotten.

"Brynn, I didn't know that you had a boyfriend," Josh stammers.

I find myself stammering now, trying to formulate the right words while my head spins. "No, he's not…he's…we're just friends. He's staying with me this weekend."

"Oh, so you're not alone after all," he sighs, almost too casually for me to notice the discontent in his voice. "Well, that's alright. Maybe I'll see you around some other time this weekend. Nice to see you again, Brynn." He steps past me, and on his way, gives Loki a scathing look. "Nice to meet you."

Loki develops a quizzical look on his face once Josh is long-gone. "A friend of yours?" he asks.

"An old friend," I correct.

"Not a consort then?"

I know I've probably heard that word before, but I still have to ask. "What does that mean?"

He responds with a devilish smile, and "Suppose you'll have to find out."

We finish our grocery shopping without any other unnecessary interruptions. I still have trouble getting over that awkward encounter with Josh. Though I've seen him infrequently ever since I started my job, the two of us haven't spent any real time together since the summer before we went to different colleges. I cringe thinking back to those days, though when Loki notices me acting awkward as we place our items onto the till I feign shivering so he doesn't get suspicious.

Josh, the poor boy, was head over heels for me back then. I, on the other hand, had never seen a relationship with him going very far, and insisted we stay friends. He just wasn't the right man for me, and still isn't.

Punching my PIN number into the pad in front of me to pay, I catch Loki in the corner of my eye, packing food items into my bag. Though I can't be sure if he's really doing it, I swear he flashes me a quick, sincere smile.

Though it's only time for lunch when we return home, it feels like it's been much longer with all that has happened in the last day. Loki waits on the back deck while I put something simple together; grilled cheese sandwiches and my mom's tomato soup from the fridge. I steal a few glances of him through the back door to see him simply relaxing, hands behind his head and his eyes on the sky.

Beginning our lunch, he dips his sandwich into the soup without me even suggesting it. I'm impressed, but I don't show it and begin eating.

"You still haven't told me how you knew that boy from the store," he points out a bit later.

I'd nearly forgotten about our run-in earlier, and have to collect my thoughts for a moment. "I think I did tell you. He's an old friend, though I haven't seen too much of him lately."

He mulls over my response, though catches me off-guard by asking, "So there's no romantic connection there, then?"

"No," I quickly answer, and catch his sly smile at my speed. "We were friends some time ago, and that's it."

"Fair answer," he observes. "Why is it that you're...an available woman then, Brynn?"

I'm not sure if I like his question, but I still find myself answering honestly. "I suppose I just haven't found the right person yet."

He's about to say something, and something I need to hear by the look on his face, but his words are interrupted with the hail of gunfire. It's no need for worry; likely just another hunting party moving through the forest, but it still startles me regardless. Though I recover from my shock quickly, Loki rises from his seat and wanders over to the railing of the deck, looking out into the trees.

"What was that?" he asks.

"Hunters," I answer, getting up to join him against the railing. I do keep a bit of distance between us, but he's still close enough for the sides of our hips to lightly brush against each other. "They're probably shooting at birds right now."

"Hunters," he repeats slowly. He then rips his gaze from the forest to look right at me, eyes burning through mine.

I'm the one interrupted this time, about to say something about the popular hunting season in the area when he grabs me by the waist to pull my body against his. I'm sure there are still guns going off, but as soon as our lips feverishly meet, I can't pay attention to much else.


End file.
